


Advisers

by Sigmund



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Gen, a little violence, just a little theme I have going
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:16:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2747393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigmund/pseuds/Sigmund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes when we are angry we take it on another person as a substitute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Advisers

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to finish some ideas before a new season, but I am not going to get ahead of myself. This was a quick one to finish with the idea that Porthos knows about Aramis and the Queen. Thank you for those who have left kudos on my other stories. I really appreciate it and wish I could reply.

They were to leave early in the morning so instead of finding a tavern they returned to Porthos's room to share some wine. In the comfort of his friends and the wine d'Artagnan felt his tongue loosen as his thoughts were weighing on him. The younger man needed counsel.

"I love Constance." By acknowledging it his heart clenched in response. They could never be together like husband and wife unless Jacques met his demise.

Athos tipped the bottle towards the young man. "We know along with most of Paris and her husband."

There was shame at his mentor's response. d'Artagnan should have respected Constance's marriage and let her be, but she wanted him. "I do not want her deny her anything."

Porthos snorted. "Within reason. Cannot change who you are, lad." The larger man eyed the sharpshooter. "Although you are sounding like Aramis."

In a rush d'Artagnan said the words that had been weighing on him. "She wants a child."

There was silence broken by a dumbstruck Athos. "With you?"

Now he was offended as if his parentage was coming into question. His family had been nobles at one time. "Yes, with me."

"You thinking on it?" Porthos raised one brow, which showed exactly what he thoughts about the idea-it was a poor one.

Aramis had been relaxed sitting in one chair with his feet stretched onto the table, but the feet came down and his posture became rigid. "She is married to another man, d'Artagnan. Her husband will raise your child."

"I know. What would you do?"   Hearing about Aramis's exploits with women along with the man's story about fathering a child as a young man made d'Artagnan believe that the sharpshooter would bring clarity from experience.

Aramis shuffled to his feet to stand, then turned so his hands were gripped on the back of the chair. "Do not ask me this."

"Why are you asking him?" Porthos interrupted, but there was a menacing tone interlaced that the musketeer used with criminals.

"Not just him-" d'Artagnan looked between Porthos and Athos. He was not singling out Aramis, but the sharpshooter was the one who continued.

Aramis's voice was filled with emotion. "Can you imagine your child calling another man Papa? Or a son carrying on another name? Worse, what if her husband shows disdain for your son? This is insane." The Spaniard wiped a hand down over his mouth, shook his head and moved to hurry out the door.

d'Artagnan's reaction was too slow. "Aramis, wait, I apologize. I did not mean-" He was speaking to the air and went to race after his friend, but Athos gripped his arm.

"I will speak to him."

The young man stared after the door, uncomfortable to have wounded his friend by his question. "Perhaps I should talk to him. I did not mean to offend him. It was callous of me with him mourning the child still." It seemed as though Aramis would forever mourn that lost child, and d'Artagnan wondered if that was a warning to him and Constance.

"You foolish, stupid boy." Porthos growled as he reached out and forcibly turned d'Artagnan away from the door.

The Gascon winced at the rough unexpected handling. He attempted to break the grip Porthos had on his forearm. "I thought with my friends I could speak about my troubles."

Porthos was not satisfied with the explanation and punched d'Artagnan so that he landed hard on the floor with a stinging jaw. "You want to be a man, then make your own decisions."

The young man was stunned and his hand automatically went to his jaw as it throbbed, but he was able to scramble to his feet. "I am sorry."   He thought it was best to leave Porthos's presence, since the man, all his friends were upset with him.

"d'Artagnan-" Porthos called out, but he left to take a walk in the streets of Paris to find a way to return to the good graces of his brothers.

(())

Porthos remained in the room, sitting heavily at the table as he shook his hand out. His knuckles crackling as his energy waned. He was not angry at d'Artagnan, but at the secrets being kept. The wine was tempting and he drank his fill until Athos entered.

"Where is d'Artagnan?"

The large man waved his hand in the air. "Gone."

"What happened?" Athos took the other chair, and pulled the bottle from Porthos's hands.

He released the wine. "I hit him."

It was admirable how Athos controlled his emotions. "Did he deserve it?"

A shrug was the best reaction that he could create because Porthos knew his emotions were leaking out and would soon overflow. "Probably not. I'm not angry with him."

"I see." Athos in his silence was always watching and dissecting. "Aramis is in his room."

Porthos was a little lost on what he should do with that information. He was mad at his friend for not telling the truth to him who had always been by his side as a brother. It was as if Aramis did not have confidence in Porthos.

"Go talk to him," Athos prompted.

The large man knew the nobleman was hiding the knowledge, and Porthos was angry at him, too. However, it was Aramis who he needed to speak to so he pushed away from the table. "And d'Artagnan?"

"I will find him." Athos nodded.

(())

Porthos decided not to knock, entering Aramis's room to catch him by surprise. The sharpshooter was laying in his bed, sitting up when the door opened. His friend looked spent, but that did not deter the larger man. "I hit d'Artagnan."

"Why?" Aramis's face wrinkled. "Is he well?"

Porthos did not answer the question. The reason was to defend Aramis's honor, to deceive d'Artagnan and to release his anger at not being let into his friends' confidences. They had been through much and would go through more in their journey as Musketeers. "Ran off. Athos will find him."

Aramis shifted so his back was against the wall. "Why, Porthos? The boy did nothing wrong."

He moved so he stood in front of the sharpshooter, casting a shadow over his friend. "I know. I'm angry with you."

Aramis looked up to meet the larger man's eyes, then looked away with a handle creeping to the Queen's cross on his neck. "You know."

Porthos would defend King, Queen and France as was his duty, but he had a loyalty to his friends. There had to be trust, especially when as musketeers they were frequently in life or death situations. He had seen the clues, followed his instincts which led to the Queen's pregnancy and Aramis. "And you didn't tell me. Did you think I was dumb and blind?"

"No, never, I did not want to burden you." Aramis stood, his hands reaching out to hold on to Porthos's shoulders. The larger man was sensitive about his lineage and his background in the Court. He had overcome any obstacles, been admired for doing so, but there was this feeling like a thread in his soul.

In the same manner Porthos placed his hands on Arami's upper arms so they were locked. "We are brothers. There is no burden."

"The Queen is with my child. You could be executed for knowing."

The sharpshooter had lowered his voice; the walls even in the garrison had ears so one had to be careful. "I would die for you. For Athos, d'Artagnan."

"As I would for you and the others, but I feel I have failed you." Aramis's grip tightened. "Will you forgive me?"

"Of course, but we will have to watch out for each other. You court danger, my friend," Porthos had to give his friend a warning. He would defend him, help him, but Aramis needed to have a care for them, too.

(())

There were these days when he missed his father dearly. The elder d'Artagnan knew his son, listened and would listen and answer questions. In d'Artagnan's mind he tried to draw what his father would say to him about the circumstances. There was a niggling sensation of his father's mortification of defending a king whose taxes were suffocating farmers and his son's affair with a married woman. It was difficult to ignore, but showed how Charles d'Artagnan was a trying person to those around him. The walk around Paris had given him a direction, albeit one which could lead to a loss of his friends so he was surprised when Athos gestured for him to sit at the table when he saw the young man enter the garrison. "Athos."

"Are you well?" His mentor looked directly at d'Artagnan's jaw.

His jaw was sore, but the pain was familiar from missions and training. "I went to take a walk to sort it all out. I wanted to apologize to Aramis, you and Porthos, too."

"Apologize?"

d'Artagnan could start with Athos. Perhaps by explaining himself there could be understanding. "I realized that I must be annoying to you all. I ask far too many questions and you have all been incredibly patient. But I know that I have overstepped your friendships."

"Friendships?"

The Gascon wanted to call them brothers, but at present he wanted to tread on safer ground. "I thought, I mean, I believe if I talked to Aramis this evening, then it would make the mission tomorrow less uncomfortable, then I promise that if you would no longer want to include me on future missions I will completely understand."

Athos's eyes opened wider for a moment, then eased back to their normal calmness. "Aramis and Porthos have retired for the evening as I suggest you do. The morning will come soon enough."

"Athos, I am sorry." d'Artagnan leaned in closer to the older man as he stood up.

The nobleman gave a short nod. "We will work it out in the morning."

(())

Before the mission they needed to report to Treville. d'Artagnan had seen the bruise darken against his olive skin, and hoped the Captain would not notice it. It wasn't meant to be.

"What happened to your face?"

It was difficult to find an excuse with Athos, Porthos and Aramis standing with him. "I tripped."

"Perhaps an increase in training to insure sure footedness is in order."

d'Artagnan hated looking like a fool in front of the captain, but he would not mention Porthos. It was the same protection he had given Aramis with Marsac. "Yes, Sir." He kept his head bowed as they exited.

There was silence as they mounted and left the garrison making their way through Paris until it was behind them.

"d'Artagnan, about last night-"

The Gascon winced as Aramis broached the subject. He believed it was better for him to say his piece. "I want to apologize. I was wrong to ask such a question. Porthos corrected me. I hope you can forgive me, you all can forgive me?"

Aramis slowed his horse to stopping as did the others. "We are your brothers, who else should you come to for advice?" The sharpshooter licked his lips. "But, I advise you against having a child with Constance."

At this point he could see a little more of the folly and he would talk to Constance, but his brothers were important at the moment. "But, I upset you and Porthos-"

"Lad, it was a mistake to hit you. I _am_ sorry. I was mad at him," Porthos pointed to Aramis.

The Gascon's anger flared. "Then why didn't you hit him?" He touched his bruised jaw. "Treville thinks I am a bumbling idiot."

Porthos looked away. "You don't know what it's like when your mother and father are not married."  The large man revealed the hurt of his past with his words.  "I'll fix it with Treville, but Aramis has got to do some explaining."

"There is nothing that you need to be forgiven for, except what I am to share." The sharpshooter looked around.

"Understand this, d'Artagnan. What you learn now you must forget and take to your grave," Athos warned, turning his horse so the foursome formed somewhat of a circle.

His fellow musketeers looked weary, older and less robust than their normal larger than life selves. For a moment he did not want to know the secret. Yet, he was trusted, one of them and he could be there for them as they were for him. "I understand."

Then Aramis started to explain about the Queen and the baby, which caused a rush to d'Artagnan's ears.  He understood the weight of the secret, Porthos's anger, Aramis's reaction and Athos's warning, but more than that he felt loyal to his brothers.

 The end


End file.
